


Gentler than Cersei

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions and feels, Deviates in Season 4, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Jaime continues to train with Bronn, and Brienne visits them one day.





	Gentler than Cersei

Perched on the ledge, Brienne watched with rapt attention, a solitary witness to the sparring men, and sadly, to the clumsy mess the mighty Jaime Lannister had been reduced to. She winced whenever Bronn jabbed him with his sword, and gasped when he landed on the ground, sighing heavily when he lasted no more than a few seconds against the sheer raw skill Bronn displayed. This time when he fell, she noticed the pain in his eyes, shame and disgust giving it company when he grumbled, “I can’t even handle a tourney sword, what good am I going to be with Valyrian steel?”

He threw her a glance, and a wordless exchange flowed between them. _ Will I ever, _he seemed to ask her, and a subtle nod of reassurance was the least she could encourage him with, along with sending a silent prayer to the gods to help him regain his lost glory. Or at least some of it.

To his feet he sprang again, only to be disarmed before he could even re-position himself, the power and ruthlessness of his opponent too much for his wrong hand to counter. And this time unable to sustain his balance, he stumbled on a small rock in his path, tumbling to the ground headlong, his face landing with a harsh thud on the hard surface.

“Fuck!” he cursed, pressing his fingers to his forehead when he sat up, and only when she squinted to look closely did she notice the blood dripping down his brow.

“Gods!” she panicked, and abandoning her seat, she leapt off the wall and rushed to him. “Let me see how bad it is,” she said, crouching beside him.

“It’s just a small cut, wench,” he dismissed her concern, though on proper examination it appeared to be far worse than that. Far deeper than he’d trivialized it to be, the blood trickling down it steadily increased, his nose and cheek now covered in it.

“Take your hand off,” she ordered, her pulse rising despite the wound being his, “I’ll--”

“I can stem the flow if I keep it pressed for a while,” he grunted, wincing as he increased the pressure on the wound, “I can manage by myself.”

Such cuts were no more than insect bites for seasoned warriors like him, but for someone who’d watched him being maimed in front of her eyes, stamped on, beaten and brutally tortured until he’d fainted with his stump left to rot for hours, she couldn’t bring herself to tolerate even the smallest wound on him. However minor his suffering might be, she couldn’t bear to see it, nor would she let him go through the pain again. Not if she could do something to make it better. 

Going back to the ledge she’d been sitting on, she grabbed the skin of water she’d brought with her, emptying some of it into a clean towel that was strewn beside it. Running back to him, she knelt by his side. “Let me clean it for you.” When he gave no answer, nor showed any inclination to cooperate with her, she lost patience, commanding him with a brusque, “Move aside,” before shoving his obstructing hand away.

Taken aback, though he appeared to be, this time he complied, allowing her to have her way as she gently began dabbing the cut with the soft cloth, wiping the blood off it. Her focus on the task at hand, she paid no attention to his warm skin under her fingers as her left hand caressed his forehead, keeping his hair out of her way. Nor was she worried about how close she was to him, the burning warmth of his breath doing nothing to her, leaving no feelings nor heady sensations rising within her. That his eyes bore into her didn’t affect her either, nor did the fact that her fingers shivered a lot when her forearm accidentally brushed against his chest. 

“Steady,” he murmured, his good hand closing around her wrist, his grip sending a tremor down her groin. Flustered with the way her body responded to his touch, she tried to look away, but unknown to herself her eyes dropped to meet his, the depth of them threatening to suck her in and imprison her inside forever. “I’m not dying, Brienne,” he said, smiling despite his discomfort.

“I know.” Her mind trapped in memories of Harrenhal, she could still sense his pain, his gut-wrenching scream when the steel had sawed through his bones, ripping his limb apart. “I’m just going to ensure you’re comfortable until Qyburn takes a look at you.”

He let go of her wrist, but leaned closer, his chest nearly touching hers. Her breathing quickened, and a wave of pleasure and pain shot through her, her nipples hardening upon contact with his muscular frame. Her mouth ran dry and her body and mind were reduced to a messy combination of panic, arousal and embarrassment. “Why?” he asked, saying nothing more to elaborate his cryptic question.

Refusing to answer, she gulped away the distraction and went on with her task, cleaning up the rest of his face.

“My lady,” he began again, “I asked you--”

“You two appear to be doing just fine without me,” quipped a complaining voice from somewhere above them. Dropping the towel, she shrank away from Jaime, looking up to notice Bronn smirking down at them.

“I--I’ve finished,” she stuttered, looking everywhere but at the two men. “We can leave--”

“Take your time, my lady, and do what you ought to,” drawled Bronn, then turned to Jaime, “She appears to be a better healer than Qyburn, don’t you think, Lannister? A woman’s hands are gentler than--” 

“Bronn,” called out Jaime in a warning tone, but the sellsword merely chuckled in response, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

Saying no more, he picked up his sword and retreated to the exit, leaving Brienne alone with Jaime and a desperately thundering heart. Before ascending the stairs, Bronn tossed them a sly look. “Remember what I said on our first day here, Lannister? This place is so secluded that no one can hear you,” he said, the smirk still plastered on his smug face. “Not even if she screams when you fu--”

“That’s enough,” barked Jaime, his neck and the patch of exposed skin around his collarbone turning red, “now piss off.”

Unperturbed by the rebuke, Bronn’s grin only widened. “With pleasure,” he said, before making himself scarce. “Have a good time, you two.” His incomplete sentences and the hints he dropped led her mind to drift into unexplored realms, the images in her head making her want to dig a hole in the ground and bury herself in shame.

“Ignore him,” said Jaime, in an abnormally subdued tone as soon as their nosy companion was out of earshot. “He’s always like this.”

“Hmm,” she acknowledged, and was about to collect the water skin and towel and get up, when he caught her wrist again, dragging her back to her knees.

“I asked you a question, wench,” he reminded her, his eyes drilling into hers. “Why?”

“I--” she considered his question for a while. “I don’t know,” she honestly answered him, searching her heart for the true reason. “I just can’t bear to see you in pain--”

“Why?” he asked, tugging her closer with such force that this time she lost her balance and was about to fall flat on her face. He caught her on time, his stump winding around her waist. “I can’t let you fall either,” he said, steadying her. Straightening his back, he reduced the gap between them. “What is this strange protective instinct that you and I share, Brienne?” 

“An outcome of spending our darkest moments in each other’s company, I suppose,” she said, flustered that he’d unnecessarily begun questioning her, treading into dangerous waters. 

“And in each other’s arms,” he supplied, an obvious reference to Harrenhal.

The time had come to get the hell out of his sight before the matter could blow out of proportions, before he had the chance to press on the subject further and make her delve deep into her conscience and into the true nature of her feelings for him. 

_ That you matter to me more than anything else is of no significance. That I’d rather die than let any harm befall you isn’t something I can easily admit to you. That I love-- _

A bolt out of nowhere, it stung her when she realized how much he meant to her, what it was that she felt for him.

_ That I’ve fallen in love with you is a situation I’ve landed myself in, and it is for me to sort out. With you out of my way. _

“It’s time we left,” she said, deciding to part ways as soon as she’d gathered her wits. 

Regretting her foolishness to have come here in the first place, she wriggled out of his grasp and was about to get up when he reached for her wrist again. “Not before we talk this out,” he said, his breathing now as frantic as hers.

“There’s nothing to talk,” she whispered, choosing to stare at the ground. “You hurt yourself and I thought it necessary to address your problem.”

“You panicked,” he reminded her. “You’d rather die than see me suffer. I could sense the pain in your eyes, wench, and something else, something definitely more than concern,” he accurately noted, sending a rush of blood to her face.

“There’s nothing else,” she immediately denied before things could get out of hand.

“Is that so?” he demanded in disbelief. “Ask yourself, my lady, do you not--”

“I don’t,” she pushed down his allegation again, this time succumbing to the surge of overwhelming emotions within her. “I can’t, it isn’t right--”

“Why--”

“Because you love none but your sister,” she cried, looking at him squarely in the eye, the dam she’d built around herself crumbling to pieces. “Because there’s no room in your heart for an ugly warrior maiden like me. Men fall in love with gentle women they can take care of, ones they can protect and hold close to their chests to comfort them, not--”

Before she could finish, he pulled her into his arms, and before she could resist, she melted into his chest, her agitation and all her cares vanishing into thin air with his touch, the comforting pressure of his body against hers wiping everything but him off her mind. “This is one thing you and I definitely agree on, wench,” he breathed into her ear, sending wild shivers down her spine and straight into the pit of her belly. “There’s nothing more I want than to keep you safe,” he mouthed into her burning skin, letting his hand wander up her neck and into her hair, “to protect you and care for you all my life, to comfort you in difficult times--”

“I’m not your sister,” she said, the distressing image of Cersei returning to cloud her head once she’d resorted to thinking again, shattering all her dreams.

He drew away to look her in the eye. “You’re gentler than Cersei,” he remarked, taking her hand and stroking her palm, “nobler in heart and truer in soul, and deep down, as vulnerable as she or any other woman is.”

She wanted to believe him, but it sounded too good to be true. “You’re exaggerating--”

“I’m glad you aren’t Cersei, and by now I’m sure you know what it is that I feel for you. You mean the world to me, Brienne,” he said with fondness, “and I know you too--”

“I do,” she admitted, trying hard to brush aside the tears that clouded her vision, “but--” 

And yet again, her sentence was left hanging unfinished, because this time he kissed her, his lips pushing into hers, proving his words weren’t an exaggeration but a sincere expression of his love for her. The scent of him, his tongue, his fingers that explored her body without inhibitions - all of it assured her that their paths were meant to cross for a reason. That he was the one for her. 

He would always be the one.

“We should go back to the keep,” she said, her face aflame when she extricated herself from his embrace, still reeling under the intensity of his kiss. 

“Not so fast.” With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he pulled her into his arms again. Blushing profusely when her attention was drawn to the throbbing ache within her core, she decided to listen to her heart for a change, to do as it instructed, to surrender to him and let him be hers and ease her pain. Cersei and all other hindering thoughts flying out of her head, she sank into his touch when he lay her on her back. 

“As Bronn said, this place is so secluded that no one would hear us,” he growled, pinning her down with his body as he inched his face close to hers, “not even if you scream when I...” 

The rest of his words remained unsaid and he crushed her lips with his, the kiss just the beginning of the glorious journey she'd embarked on with him. One that was sweeter than any she'd been through.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and do let me know if you liked it!


End file.
